Deafening Silence
by EmilyMayVTheCrazyDinosaurGirl
Summary: Drunken nights that had turned into drunken weeks, lust that had turned her obsessive. A neatness that put her in Hospital. Peaceful. A fingerprint here, a finger print there, no fingerprints, hand marks, or bruises on her body.
1. Dreams

**_I own nothing but my imagination, fueled by the world of CSI and the reviews I recieve, the knowledge that people around the world read my words, and the desire and urges to write every day keep me writing. My imagination is warped, twisted, and contains the wonderful Sara Sidle. Enjoy. Laugh. Love._**

****As the day went by the caseload lessened, the expert team of Vegas CSI tying up loose ends, finger printing evidence and processing scenes, another normal night within the chaos of a city riddled with gambling, deceit, crime and broken dreams.

They say anything is possible, but in Vegas most people come out doomed.

Something Sara was only too aware of. Her life had never been peaceful, or easy, and life before Vegas had been particularly slow and monotonous for her, the same things every day, week in week out. Heartbreak and sleepless nights followed the brunette wherever she went, memories of a troubled childhood and awkward university years. Drunken nights that had turned into drunken weeks, lust that had turned her obsessive. A neatness that put her in hospital.

And Vegas.

And Vegas, that had given her sanity. Sanity where she could go crazy and be hidden by crime. A quietness that deafened her, unnatural and loud.

Loudness so rich, and over bearing that it made her feel calm. Peaceful. A fingerprint here, a finger print there, no fingerprints, hand marks, or bruises on her body.

Confusion swept throughout her wherever she was, but here in Vegas, where she had focus, love, a job and distractions, Sara had allowed her self to grow. No longer tied to the past in every non-work decision that she made, the tall slim brunette had blossomed, and grown to love herself, her work, her friends. The friends that made her smile, and feel valued. Sara wished that the world could be as peaceful as she now felt, that the necessity of her job didn't exist. That the role of a criminalist didn't have to be real.

The victims got to her, and the bad folk felt her wrath. The judges sat in awe of her, and juries connected.

Sara had come to Vegas and broken everyone, an achievement she was all too aware of. No one messed with Sara. Almost no one.

It had been tough coming to the new city, settling in, being the new girl within an established team when she had come to interfere, and at the request of her friend, mentor, and now boss, Gilbert Grissom. Sparks flew. Hot and dangerous, cold and icy, mixed words, emotions.

A lust and desire, for him? Or to be him?

Sparks between the hardened Warrick Brown, Gambler and hard working CSI. Everywhere in life that CSI Sara Sidle turned, she caused..Upset.

The years passed, and the team had grown to love her, and Sara herself. Some, more than others. A past of broken fragments could now lay forgotten, to only be visited when Sara gave her mind permission to fall back through time. The drinking, anger, compulsiveness had lessened.

Peace.

Peace and a confused pride, for who she was, and how far she was brave enough to go. Nights trapped within the dessert, with bees, in water. In her mind. Hard cases for her damaged hardened heart. Clashes with her senior female co-worker. More drink, drink to distract herself from her confusion. Her wishful cheating, dreams...desires.


	2. Tea

A fiery red head highlighted and almost false, flashed through her mind with a confusion that caused her stomach to tighten and her breathing to falter.

Reversing at extreme speeds, blurring the surroundings inside her mind she went further and further back, scarred for every new scene her mind over turned and pleased knowing they were just living dreams.

The face changed, it grew younger, the eyes changed colour, the skin paler.

A young girl stood beneath a mature and twisted willow tree. Tears fall, and Sara snapped back to herself. A beer bottle, empty by her side. A knock on her front door. Sliding further in to the sofa Sara was lying on, she wished her body to make its self smaller, and for no noise to escape from her. She knew who was at her door, and couldn't face them.

The heavy consistent knocking seemed far away and distant to the brunette, as the heavy beating of her heart and the rise and fall of her lungs grew louder and began to seem deafening to her. Forcing herself up, her eyes clamped shut to help lessen the headache forming, she walked across the room, opened her door to the new comer, sighing she turned around, found the nearest chair and sat back down again.

She didn't speak, or open her eyes, but left the door open waiting for her unwanted company to speak first.

She heard the front door close and soft footsteps heading to the kitchen, water, a click.

Cups clattering.

Tea.

Several minutes passed by and nothing but the sound of boiling water filled the apartment. A mug was placed in front of her, and Sara opened her eyes, took a sip of the welcoming and warming drink and mumbled her thanks to her unwanted guest.

After a hard case several years earlier Sara had cleaned up her apartment, removed the unwanted menus, catalogues, and replaced them with memories. She had removed the empty beer bottles, take away containers and dead plants.

It had made her feel more human, but it had also made her feel more vulnerable when she felt weak. The years had progressed and Sara had grown, growing stronger and more vibrant. She no longer needed to hide, and she had become more sociable. Relationships blossomed and now Sara was married, raising money for charities, organizing events, looking after bees, and had reached the status of Level3 CSI.

Sara Sidle had come a long way in a short time, and everyone around her knew it.

Something inside of the brunette however held her back, confused her, and consumed her. Looking up from her tea Sara looked over to the women sat opposite her, and smiled awkwardly.


	3. Disease

Sara finished the last mouthful of her tea, standing, she gestured towards Catherine offering her a second cup of the uplifting brew.

Refilling the kettle, and turning it on, Sara sighed, walking over to the sink once more, she began to run the water to wash her own cup. One cup was enough for her. Letting the hot tap run for a good minute before placing the plug in the sink, Sara carefully rinsed the cup over, before submerging it in the hot, and bubbly liquid.

The very bubbly liquid. Sara hated dirty plates lying around, and had urges to wash them up as soon as they had stopped being used. Something of a result from her childhood. Empty, unclean, plates, mugs, cups, worried and haunted her. Made her skin crawl.

She had undergone therapy, and seen a Dr because of it, and it had subsided a little bit, but it had never left her. Something that became more apparent when she found herself stressed.

The water steamed, but Sara didn't seem to notice, nor did she hear the kettle come to the boil, or hear Catherine stand up to make her own drink. She needed to get the cup clean.

An irrational part of her rational obsessive compulsive disorder.

Catherine looked on in confusion, in all the years she had known Sara she had never picked up on the obvious signs of her OCD, at least not the signs that showed it to be this bad. Catherine cursed at herself, she had never noticed, because she had never paid attention. Quietly watching the brunette, obviously in a private battle, she decided enough was enough, five minutes had passed, surely the cup was clean by now?

Standing up once more Catherine silently placed her hand on Sara's back.

'Don't touch me..' Sara snapped, jerking her body away from the women's cold and unwanted touch. 'I'm busy' she added quietly. Once again placing her hand on Sara, Catherine reached for the cup with her other hand ''The cup is clean Sara, sterilised too...'' Catherine flinched at the heat coming from the cup, and saw the redness of Sara's hand, the water was obviously too hot for her, and had burnt her. Placing the cup on the side, she pulled the women from the sink.

''I said don't touch me..'' Sara tried to pull away from her once more, but knew it was pointless in doing so, she felt weak.

Comprised, violated. Exposed.

''I just want to help...' Catherine said quietly. Sara nodded, mumbling, a tear falling down her cheek.

Sara had been weak, and tormented over her past before coming to Vegas, and it had taken her many years to finally piece her life back together. To fix herself. To free herself from disease. Sara had blossomed, she had grown, and her compulsive tendencies had almost vanished. She had decided to throw all her energies into her work, into bettering the world as best as she could.

Hoping.

Hoping that one day everything would magically fall into place. That her pain would vanish, and that the answers would fall into place. To her relief, they did. A mask had come, a painkiller, medicine. Love.

Grissom. Grissom who had nurtured her and cared for her.

Where had it gone wrong.

Was love not supposed to conquer all?

Sara had allowed her own mind to wonder, she had toyed with ideas, germinated ideas, and given them permission to grow. Her love for Grissom, her husband, her marriage, had been questioned.

Perhaps she only loved him because of the way he made her feel, and not because of the feelings she had for him. Perhaps the game of chasing each other, of figuring each other out, at the time, had been enough. Sara didn't know what to think.

Wasn't coming to Vegas supposed to heal her? To cure her.

Sara nodded ''I know'' she admitted quietly ''I know Grissom sent you...but you can't help me.''

Catherine only shrugged, she wasn't going to be turned down so easily.

Walking away from Catherine, Sara sunk her head, she never allowed tears to escape from her eyes so easily, and never in front of Catherine. What had gotten into her? Sighing, she knew exactly what had gotten into her.

She knew why she had told Grissom why she needed space. It wasn't the case load, it wasn't work related stress, or the need to put a little space between her work life and her personal life, at least for a little bit. But it was what she had convinced Grissom of. At least she thought she had. Perhaps the man wasn't so blind and foolish as everyone thought.

It would explain Catherine's presence.

Things would be so much easier if Greg or Nick had come to her instead.

After all, it was the fiery red headed CSI that was currently watching her every move that had made Sara question her relationship, marriage, and love for Gil.

If her Dad was still alive now, Sara was under no doubt that her thoughts alone would have caused him to hit her. To scream at her. To scream and shout at her until she once again understood that such things were borne of disease and mental illness.

_Sara leaned in closer to the warm body, her own skin tingling. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she ran her fingers through the long, matted, black locks. Feeling the smoothness of skin, slightly goose-pimpled from the coldness of the room, only adding to the strong sensations Sara and her partner felt. Her tongue teasing the one that had seeked it, her lips parted and her eyes closer. Hands exploring her own body, slipping underneath her loose fitting shirt, over the curves of her small body._

_Pain._

_Screaming._

''Sara..Talk to me..At least let me look at her hands..there red raw...''

Snapping back to reality, she looked up, her eyes falling straight to Catherine's concerned and exasperated face. Wordlessly she raised her arms up, offering her hands to Catherine, who took them gently.

''OCD'' Sara stated as way off an explanation to her earlier actions. ''I..I hate being interrupted when washing up.'' she added weakly.

''Does the water not burn?'' Catherine questioned. Shaking her head no Sara explained that the heat was the only way to make sure they were clean, that it was literally drummed into her as a young child, that she had grown used to the heat, which was better than the consequences of a dirty cup.

Catherine sighed, Sara didn't need to explain herself for her to know it wasn't the risk of bacterial infection that had caused this aspect of Sara's now apparently severe OCD.

'Grissom..umm, Grissom told me he heard you talking in your sleep the other night...but he didn't know how to confront you about it...are you ill Sara? Is this what it's about..? I..I can help you with medical, if you like...?'' Catherine gently asked. She knew to put some distance between herself and the brunette after inspecting her hands, knowing that physical contact and Sara didn't mix even on the best of occasions. Now however, she regretted in doing so after hearing Sara's explanation, but couldn't justifiably walk towards her again.

Fight or flight for Sara usually meant fight. Somehow though, today the blonde knew it would mean flight.

Sara once again shook her head. ''I'm not ill.''

''Umm..Grissom heard you saying you were diseased...''

Sara nodded this time. 'Then he heard right.''

Catherine's face dropped ''Sara..Sweetie, OCD isn't a disease, it's..compulsion..'' Once again Sara shook her head vehemently, backing away.

How come it was always in her own, secure, private spaces that Sara felt the most exposed. Wasn't Vegas supposed to stop all of that?

''Not OCD.'' Sara managed to get out, her mouth dry, she was taking small steps backwards away from the women, hoping that Catherine wouldn't notice.

''Then what?'' Catherine asked quietly, she wanted nothing more than to help the lady she had been working with. Her best friend, her oldest friend, had asked for her help, and she wasn't going to disappoint him.

Catherine had always felt of Grissom as her older, wiser, brother, and nothing had changed that, so if that meant accepting Sara as a Sister-in-Law of sorts, she would. They had had their differences over the years, but Catherine knew that they were the two best CSI's on the team. Catherine knew it was time to put their personal differences aside. If only Sara would let her.

Sara was still yet to answer her, but Catherine knew she had to be patient. Taking a small step towards the women who was backing away from her, she reached her hand out, hoping that Sara would take it.

She didn't know what had come over the women, over Sara, but she knew she was treading on thin ice, and that by the looks of it one wrong move could prove to be fatal.

''I'm diseased'' Sara stated, stopping. She slowly let her eyes wonder over Catherine Willows. ''My Papa was right. Once, always.'' She shrugged.

''Your beautiful.'' Sara whispered.

Was Catherine hearing this right, had Sara just called her beautiful? Unsure of what to say or do next, she decided to do nothing.

Feeling the wall behind her back Sara allowed herself to slid to the floor ''The scientific name for my disease...'' she began ''You probably heard of it, actually, and it would never have crossed your mind as being so...dangerous..'' Sara reached the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest. ''The reasons why...why YOU are so dangerous, why my marriage is failing, and why you should not touch me..why you should leave...'' she continued, her head buried in her knees. Catherine inched closer, trying to make out her words. ''Is a disease called 'Homosexuality.''

Catherine could not believe her ears. Did Sara honestly believe in her own words? Or was this another incident from her past.

Reaching for the nearest chair, Catherine sat down speechlessly. Her eyes never leaving the crumpled brunette in front of her.


	4. Trigger

As the minutes went by Catherine's confusion tied a knot in her brains. Question after question poured into her brain, but she was unable to voice them. She didn't even know where she should start.

Why did such a smart and strong CSI and person such as Sara Sidle believe in such ridiculous words?

Catherine closed her eyes, she needed to think.

As silently as she could, Sara stood up, she had wanted her problems to stay within her mind, she loved Grissom. No one else. She would have found a way to free herself once again.

Breaking Vegas had been a challenge for Sara. Her thoughts of transition could only be likened to the developments of a butterfly.

She had gone from weak, exposed and vulnerable caterpillar, to a hardened, crystallized cocoon. Protected in her encasing she had lost herself in work. She had wanted to stay there, in the dark and solid shell.

Cracks had formed. Exposing her. Hurting her. Allowing light inside. Beauty. Love. Doubt.

Backing out of the room Sara headed to her bedroom, she knew that Catherine would follow her, find her.

Walking towards her bedside cabinet she carefully opened the draw, looking over her shoulder she wondered if the blonde had noticed her absence in the kitchenette, if she had got up to look for her. To talk to her.

Taking an item out of her draw, she turned around walking back to Catherine.

''I want you to leave.'' Sara leaned against the door frame looking at the blonde still sat at her table.

Catherine shook her head 'No, your not diseased Sara, or ill, or...' she stopped, her mouth open.

'Sara..? What are you doing?'

'I told you to leave..' Sara raised the gun in her hands 'I suggest you listen' She removed the safety on the gun as she spoke.

Catherine once again shook her head 'Sara, not even your that stupid.''

''Watch me.'' Sara discreetly moved her arms slightly, her body braced. Her finger curling around the trigger.

''Your disease..'' Catherine started as boldly as she could, she couldn't show any signs of weakness or fear. ''..is a natural, sexual attraction caused by hormones, and a bunch of other natural and nurture factors. None of them borne of disease.'' Catherine shifted her chair back slightly, she needed to be able to get up quickly, to possibly disarm Sara. ''I..I was a showgirl.''

''Shut up!'' Sara spat out, her arms felt heavy, and lowered slightly ''Shut up...''

''One night..Eddie was low on luck, so, my dancing..stripping, took a step up, and, well he pimped me out. My, client, had the bluest of eyes, long, dark black hair, a sweet tattoo on her back, black eye-liner, piercings..her name was Raven. She changed my life..''

Sara's arms dropped lower, she didn't want to listen to Catherine's words. Sara was tired.

Endless days in San Francisco working, hiding, days in Las Vegas buried in work, chasing the rabbits, hunting out evidence. Days in court, in the lab. Night had turned to day, and in turn night had fallen, hours ticking by, changing into months. Years. She hadn't stopped to rest. To recharge, days off had been spend listening to the scanner, writing reports, and completing jigsaw puzzles. Her mind was kept active. Busy. Distracted.

''Your tired.'' Catherine said simply after five minutes of neither of them saying anything at all.

''Don't tell me what I am or am not.'' Sara found new strength in her sagging sore arms, and raised them once more.

She pulled the trigger.


	5. Desire

Ducking under the table Catherine let out a scream, she had never once believed the notion that Sara would pull the trigger, that she would ever shoot her.

The only give away that had warned Catherine in time was the fire burning in those deep dark eyes, and the rise of her arms, without thinking Catherine had thrown herself to the floor. Her eyes closed, her arms covering her head. Catherine lay there. Motionless.

Sara dropped the gun, watching it too fall to the ground. What had she just done. Sara slid to the floor, another tear falling down her cheek.

''Catherine..'' Sara crawled towards the women she had been dreaming of for the past few weeks, panic taking over her. ''Catherine..'' once Sara had reached her she lay her body flat against the floor, her head inches from the blondes. Catherine's eyes were still closed.

Catherine groaned, she had landed badly and her hands ached from the impact, however she had been lucky. At least her brain wasn't splattered all over the walls right now.

Thank God for that.

Slowly she opened her eyes, seeing Sara lying next to her. She saw the horror on the younger women's face and the tears streaming over her pale cheeks. Silently they reached for each others hands, entwining them around one another.

Their eyes locked onto one another, unmoving, unblinking.

Silently they stayed lying on the ground, embracing each other in this loose way.

Catherine kept replaying the scene over and over in her mind. She could see every movement, and hear every sound. Every beat of her heart, the pull of the trigger, the scrape of the chair as she flung herself to the floor. Everything.

Something wasn't right. The sounds kept playing through her mind.

Something was missing.

The gun blast. The bullet. Catherine hadn't heard a bullet shatter into the crockery behind her chair. Neither had she felt any china rain down on her. She couldn't feel any weight on her back, or any pain except for that in her hands. No sharp pain, or warm blood from where china would have cut her had it fallen.

''Your gun jammed.'' Catherine whispered, blinking her eyes a little, she twisted her body position so she was lying on her back. She didn't move her hand from Sara's, but instead entwined her fingers further still.

''I'm sorry..'' Sara whispered. She too had been going through the event, she recalled the fear on Catherine's pale face, the fear she had been trying to hide. The clear blue eyes of hers had glazed over, they had become shallow and cold. Lifeless.

''Your Gay?'' Catherine questioned, she didn't know what else to say, her head felt heavy and she didn't have the energy to move, or the stamina to call the police. She just didn't believe that the women had meant to kill her, even though it was evident in her actions, her heart and gut, Sara's eyes, told a different story.

Catherine had to understand it before she could do anything else. If she accused Sara of something before she had gathered the evidence, her reasoning, Sara's view on why she had pointed the gun, then Catherine knew there was a chance she would miss something that the other CSI's wouldn't even think to look for or even ask.

Dismissing all the training she had, all the protocols that had been drummed into her, Catherine decided the only option was to stay with the brunette who had threatened to take away her life.

Could this be classed as attempted murder, or would it be some kind of deranged self defence?

Catherine turned her head so she was once again looking at Sara, who had still to answer her question.

''I always wanted to be a mother, since I can remember'' Catherine began ''It's what drew me towards men, I knew it was something they could provide me with, it's how I met Eddie..He treated me like a Princess at the beginning. Then, one day, I met Raven.''

Sara blinked a little, confused, hadn't it been this story that had caused Sara to shoot at the women lying on the floor with her? ''Why are you telling me this?'' Sara whispered, her voice quiet and weak.

''Because, you need to know that being Gay, or Bisexual, isn't a disease. I'm Gay, I was just too scared to leave Eddie, he is my Daughters Father, he was...' Catherine closed her eyes. ''I didn't want to leave him, he left me, but that freed me. I am not diseased, I am just me, Catherine Willows.'' shifting her body once again, she forced herself to sit up, her hand still holding Sara's.

''My..My Papa, he beat me black and blue..'' Sara said quietly ''One night, he came home early, he came to my room...he caught me with my girlfriend..he dragged me off of her, and he beat me. I..I loved her, and he told me it was wrong, that I was ill. I was 15. I believed him.'' Sara untangled her hand from Catherine, moving it to her stomach.

''I always knew I liked girls, but I never knew it was wrong, not until I had to have it drummed into me.'' Sara turned herself away from Catherine, she needed space, to get away from the women. Heading towards the sink she half crawled and half dragged herself there, hoping that Catherine wouldn't stop her.

Her mind was in over drive, her thoughts were confused. She was scared of them. Of herself. She needed to wash her hands. To calm herself.

Sara needed to allow herself to get lost further into her warped and broken mind, to put distance between the revelation she had revealed, and the one she knew she just couldn't hide any longer.

''Grissom wants a baby.'' Sara stated, her voice flat, cold. ''I don't know...I don't know how to tell him, that I can't..that I just can't. My Father, my Papa, he beat me so badly that night..and every other night.'' Reaching the sink, Sara pulled herself up, pulled herself to her feet. ''My body..My uterus..is to scarred...I am incapable of conceiving, and carrying a child to term.''

Sara ran the water, but grabbed onto the side once more, her body felt heavy and she couldn't support her own weight. Slumping to the floor, half lying, half sitting Sara choked out a sob ''My uterus..it that scarred, I had it removed. I don't know how to tell him Catherine, I don't know how to tell him..that I can not bare the child he wants, because I am diseased, and was rightly punished because of my actions, because of who I choose to love. Grissom was supposed to heal me, to fix me, but his need to reproduce, and..and you...'' Sara spat out, tears falling faster down her face.

''You..you invaded my dreams, my desires...''


	6. Tears

If the gun had been clean, or if the blonde had been slower, crimson red and china white would be decorating the unloved and uninspiring kitchen which the Sidle room hardly called home any more, but had taken to residing in once more, at least for a little while. The past can not be changed, thoughts can not be unthought, and although wounds and actions heal, they can not be forgotten. If the gun...

_An old willow tree stood alone in a rough and almost deserted stretch of grassland, providing a cool shade and protection, the hanging boughs serving as a shield from prying eyes. Sara loved this spot, it was well known but seldom used, and offered an escape, solitude. The mysteriousness of the tree had always fuelled her young mind, and so she came here to draw and write, to day dream. To escape. The grass beneath her was soft, and warming, even in the shade. The tree could not heal the bruises, or soothe the cuts, but it could always soothe her mind. And now she was being forced to leave it behind. Once again, she would have to move, to find a new sacred place. But how could she when nowhere else felt as safe and as inspiring as this. Lying next to the tree, Sara traced shapes on the bark, over and over, so as to remember what it felt like. It was a memory she never wanted to leave. Pulling out her pocket knife, she carved into the tree. She wanted the tree to have her mark, just as she had the Willows mark._

''You invaded my dreams Catherine, you have always been there, even before I came to Vegas, the willow tree that was my inspiration and protection, and I, being me, Sara Sidle, the side stepping and broken crab, moving from home to home, to home, out growing and destroying, decide to cut into my place of solitude, and in a moment of weakness, pull the trigger.'' Pulling her legs up tight to her body, her tears unflowing, dried up, her throat dry, her voice bold but weak, looked up to Catherine who had yet to move ''Now you, you have to do the same, so, pull out the handcuffs, read me my rights, rights that I do not deserve, and will not adhere to, and arrest me, speak against me, and trap me in the bed that I have now made and deserve.''

''I wont do that'' Catherine rolled to her back once more, it seemed safer down here, and she was to drained to move. ''I know you didn't mean to, I know you are hurting and confused, and that Grissom, your **Husband** loves you very much, that you love him, regardless of your dreams, or your past. So no.''

''I pulled a gun on your head!'' Sara screamed, ''I need to be locked away, I do not deserve you, Grissom...''

The hum of the fridge kicked in, the water boiler ticking away, cars outside drove past the window periodically, everyone unaware of the drama's unfolding inside the small apartment. Catherine had been terrified when she saw the gun, all trust in Sara had vanished within seconds, and fear had overcome her, where had it all gone so wrong. She had seen the signs no one else had, the tension between Grissom and Sara, the tension that had begun to affect work, and Sara's withdrawal, unusual behaviour. One moment she was consumed within work, never stopping, never resting, and the next she was throwing tantrums, distracted, unconcentrating, unfocused on work, cases, experiments. Sara's random and sporadic flirtation with her, the hands that had touched, only to be pulled away and followed by an argument. Catherine had felt the intense heat, as she had been feeling it too. She had tried to speak to her, but had never had the courage, and so now, here she was, lying on the cold floor, her body still shaking, her stomach stills in knots, whilst she herself wanted nothing more than to hold the broken women.

Standing, Catherine walked towards Sara, the gun was now forgotten, lying uselessly on the floor, just as Sara now sat broken on the floor. ''Sara, you are neither diseased, or damaged goods, let me take care of you.'' sitting next to the brunette, she gently took Sara's hand, pulling the women in close to her ''I don't want to see you in jail, or an institution, I wouldn't want to see you like that everyday, I don't know what Id do if I didn't have you to argue with, or to work with, to relax with.'' Catherine gently kissed Sara's head, holding her closer, neither of them speaking.

Her wedding day had been perfect, and after years of hiding in a cracked and imperfect cocoon Sara had emerged as an elegant butterfly, a new journey and new chapter had begun. But Sara had always known that nothing could last forever, and that one day her wings would become battered and bruised, and she would once again crumble.

Sara's body was burning, but it was pleasant and sensational. Not a new feeling for her, but right now it felt foreign and out of place. She had lost her self control, and reverted back to an old, unwanted part of herself. Vegas had been the place where she could stop the past repeating on itself. A place where her fathers violent influence and her mothers mental state could no longer reach her.

Sara twisted in Catherine's embrace, her mind still overrun with the past events, she could still feel the gun in her hand, it's weight, it's coldness, and she knew it would now haunt her forever. She had never meant to hurt Catherine, she had never meant to question her love for Grissom, or to allow her troubled past, her inner battle, to win. Now it was in the open, no other path was an option for Sara.

Sara reached her hand up, her eyes closed, she did not want to see the pain or anger or pity shown on Catherine's face. Leaning in closer Sara allowed her dreams and desire to take over her, and kissed the women before her gently, slowly. Tears streaming down both of their facts, mingling with one another, as Catherine stayed unmoving, neither inviting her in closer, or pushing her away.


End file.
